


Hoarding That Sky

by voleuse



Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-13
Updated: 2009-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-04 01:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>And a jingly tune has smothered the wee abattoir in my heart</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hoarding That Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Set after "The Juror #6 Job." Title and summary adapted from Paula Cisewski's _Thanks, Nebraska_.

Parker, scowling, dropped into the chair across from Sophie.

Sophie returned her attention to the copy of _BusinessWeek_ in front of her, tapped her finger against the page and perused it for the half a moment she knew would make Parker cranky. Well, _more_ cranky.

"Most people start with _hello_," Sophie explained, flipping the magazine closed with a smile. "Hello, Parker. Can I help you with something?"

"I'm supposed to have coffee with Peggy," Parker said. She twisted in her chair, her shoulders tilting in a way that usually meant severe consternation. "This afternoon. At a Starbucks."

"I remember," Sophie said. "It was sweet of her to invite you out."

"She invited Alice," Parker said. "What does Alice drink at Starbucks?"

"You're Alice," Sophie replied. "What do you like to drink?"

"I don't know." Parker folded her arms. "Water?"

"You can't drink water if somebody asks you out for coffee," Sophie said.

"I don't like coffee," Parker said. "I don't go out for coffee."

"Ah." Sophie traced a slow pattern against the tabletop. An _S_, looping forward and back. "You'll have a drink. You'll talk. It's very simple, Parker."

"Talk about what?" Parker didn't look at Sophie's hands, but her shoulders evened out, somewhat.

"About work. About the weather." Sophie smiled. "Talk about what makes you happy, Parker."

"About what makes Alice happy," Parker corrected.

Sophie sighed. "Right."

Parker stared at her for a minute, then bit her lip. "Maybe Alice likes those foamy coffee things?"

"Maybe," Sophie said. "It's a start."

*

 

It was a simple con, playing carrot and the stick with yet another Wall Street has-been. This stock broker liked blondes, though, and if there was one thing Sophie could never be, it was blond.

"All you have to do," Sophie told Parker, yanked at the laces of the calfskin boots Parker thought were impractical, "is convince Petersen that you want her to invest in your restaurant."

Parker tugged her foot away from Sophie's grasp. "But I don't like restaurants," she said.

"You don't have to," Sophie said, wrapping her fingers around Parker's other ankle. "Parker."

"Fine." Parker rolled her eyes and lifted her foot, and Sophie commenced lacing. "I don't like these boots."

"You don't have to," Sophie repeated. "But Petersen likes restaurants, and Petersen will like the boots. Petersen likes _you_."

"But," Parker protested, "I don't like her. Like that."

"She's a mark." Sophie patted the back of Parker's knee and laughed. "You're not supposed to."

Parker lifted her foot, turning her leg for inspection. "I don't think I can walk in these."

"Come on, then." Sophie stood and extended her hands. "We'll practice."

*

 

Sophie found Parker rooting at the bottom of the refrigerator, and she tamped down the urge to startle her.

"Are you just going to stare at me?" Parker said, her voice a muffled echo. "I can't find my tacos."

Sophie cleared her throat. "Look behind the turkey rolls on the second shelf," she suggested.

"Hm?" Parker rose from her crouch, peered at the second shelf, then grabbed the paper sack Sophie had indicated. "Ha!"

"Could you pass me the turkey rolls?" Sophie requested. "I'm feeling a bit hungry, myself."

Parker handed over the plastic tray without comment, and Sophie followed her into the conference room. They spread out their respective lunches on the table, and silently, Sophie offered Parker a bottle of water.

A turkey roll and three tacos later, Sophie glanced up. "How are you feeling today, Parker?"

"Fine," Parker said, then swallowed another mouthful. She eyed Sophie. "Are you pretending to be a therapist again?"

"No," Sophie said, and she managed not to sound exasperated. "I genuinely want to know."

"Oh. Okay." Parker took another bite of her lunch, chewed slowly.

Sophie sipped her water and waited.

"Um," Parker said, "how are you feeling today, Sophie?"

"Wonderful, Parker." Sophie grinned. "I feel like we're finally making progress."

Parker squinted. "Therapist," she pronounced.

"A little bit, yeah," Sophie admitted.

And Parker laughed.


End file.
